West, in the Foggy Valley

by Tadhg O'Rabhartaigh

  The other woman did not give her any answer at all. They both fell silent as they gazed over at the far side of the Gleann. On the level fields under Dun le Grein, where there was quite a lot of noise, from the men working on Marcus Mac Alastair’s new house. The stonework was all done, by the looks of it because they were putting up the roof that evening.

  “God, sister, isn’t it yourself who will have the lonesome life over there among the little people,” Una said, and she winked her eye unknown to Triona. But with the grace of God you will prosper there.”

  “It is the best site for a house in this Gleann, and all that talk that grandmother has about the fairies is only nonsense. There is no such thing as fairies.”

  “Is that right? What about the lights at night? Didn’t you see them yourself a hundred times? I would not go to live with Marcus Mac Alastair at Dun le Grein for silver or gold.”

  “Well pet,” Triona said, “if he asked me to go living with him in a cabin out at St. Ailbe’s Well, I would go and welcome. I would go to Inis Colman with him, if he wished; but he has no interest whatever in it himself. He said that the house is cursed and that Inis Colman is too. He said that it makes him very angry when he thinks about how much the people of Gleann Ceo suffered for that house and to keep the people in it in wealth and in comfort.”

  “Did he ever talk to you about the promise the old buck had made to kill the priest the day he died? “ Una said.

  “No he didn’t talk about it.” Triona said. Dear one, do not be so talkative. Who knows whether he had a promise to kill the priest or not? Don’t you know yourself that he would not put himself in danger of hanging like that?”

  “Hanged would be the right thing for him.” Una said. “Wasn’t his grandfather a hangman? As sure as God, Triona, it will be thrown at your family that they are the breed of hangmen.”

  She winked a roguish eye again, and Triona well knew that she did, even though she did not see her.

  “How long is Mac Alastair dead now?” she said, when she noticed that Triona passed no heed at all to the hangman’s story.

  “Almost a year,” Triona said.

  “You are exactly right. But where are the changes on the lives of the people since he died? Of course we never expected to have saol an mhadaidh bhain/the life of Reilly, while he was on the path, but dammit if I see any person any better off as a result of his death. I can’t see that the son is any better than his father. The rents are the same, and the pay is not any higher in the mine than it was when the old boy himself was on his feet.

  “That is true,” Triona said.

  “And everyone was saying that Marcus would discontinue the rent as soon as he got possession; but I don’t see that he has any intention of parting with it any more than the man who is gone. When is he going to break with it?”

  “Next month,” Triona said. “He has the Catechism on the tip of his tongue for a long time. I believe he knows it better than I do.”

  “I believe that we will have the big night quickly after that,” Una said. “God but I will laugh my fill when I see you married and tied. And I will laugh my fill out here when I see you showering the little ones. Wait until you have a bunch of children around you, Triona. On my soul I will have plenty to laugh about then, when I will be home on holidays from Dublin or London, or some place like that, and nothing to bother me no more than the bird that is singing on that shrub over there.”

  “Saviour, but it is you who are away with the wind.” Triona said. “Don’t you know that you will have to stay with the old pair when I leave them? What departure are you talking about?”

  “Are you saying that I will stay minding the old pair until my head turns grey? Why can’t you stay with them, if you are that worried about them? If they are causing you so much concern, Triona, bring them with you when you go to Dun le Grein.”

  “Una, pet,” Triona said, “you haven’t a grain of sense. But the world will teach you sense, love; and I must say that I have trust in God that you will wise up without having to pay too high a price for it.”

  Just then the old woman came to the door and she called them in.

  “Come on boys,” Una said, “Grainne Rua has the tea ready.”

  “I believe that you are starving, children,” the old woman said, as they went inside. “Sit down here while you eat a little at your ease.”

  Una took a mouthful of tea from the mug.

  “Maise my seven curses on Eoin na suil dearg/ Red eyed Eoin, “ she said. It is himself that always has the bad tea. Into his mouth he should be hit with it.”

  “He has this Gleann destroyed,” Feargal said. “He only buys the cheapest things on the market and he sells them at twice the price. He does not mind what kind of goods he sells, and if you go with a complaint to him, all he does is scowl at you. He has them shaking in their skins; and he doesn’t mind eating the faces off them in front of everyone. Son of Glory, I would like to thump him in the face sometimes.”

  And the way he lights up when some big shot comes in,” Una said. You would think that the police came from heaven to him.”

  “Marcus Mac Alastair knows the devil he is,” Peadar said, “even though he looks as if he is going to absorb him into his face with the extent of his merriment the odd time that Marcus visits him.”

  “He thinks that he is loaded with money,” Feargal said.

  “He has the bulk of the money that was earned in that mine for a long time,” Conor Mor said; and plenty more besides. He started over there with empty pockets, you could say. He went across the mountain one day to Ballinashee, with a donkey and two creels. He came home with the two creels full of tea and sugar, and other little things. Himself and his grandfather began to sell them. It wasn’t long until he had a horse and a carriage on the road, drawing from the station at Druim Duilliur. That is how Eoin started, boy; and a good few of the families here in Gleann Ceo are in his clutches now, and very scared of him.”

  “Isn’t it a wonder that no one else had the courage to start a shop here except himself?” Peadar said. “Dammit but we should start a shop here ourselves and sell everything cheaper than Eoin.”

  “But,” Feargal said, with a derisory note, “that would be silly. The creatures who are buried in debt in Eoin’s house, would be too afraid to come within a mile of you. I believe you would get some support from the others; they would be trying to be friendly with you and asking for credit, and you would never notice until you were a sort of an Eoin an Droighead yourself. I would put my bag on my back and I would beg from door to door before I would be a shopkeeper in this Gleann. It would not be pleasant.”

  “That is all nonsense, Feargal,” Triona said. “You could be a shopkeeper without being like Eoin an Droighead. If I had the money and to be in your place, I would open a shop in the morning.; and I would not be afraid that the people hated me as they do Eoin an Droighead.”

  “Maybe Marcus Mac Alastair will start a shop himself,” Una said, “and that our Triona here will be selling out from behind the counter, yet”

  “Although you are only mocking,” Triona said, “you could be partly right. I am hoping myself that the day will come when Marcus will have a shop at the Droighead, and a right shop.”

  “Maise my seven blessings on my Marcus,” Grainne Rua said. Eoin would be a right laughing stock then if that happened. He would go out of his mind, as sure as God.”

  “Eoin is delighted at the new hall being built over there,” Feargal said. “He knows that this hall will attract all the youth of the country to the Droighead, and he thinks that he will get rich selling sweets and cigarettes and all that kind of stuff.”

  “How are they coming on with the hall lately?” Conor Mor asked.

  “They have the roof on since yesterday evening,” Feargal said. I see them starting on the windows this morning, and there are a few of them plastering the walls. Dear people but it will be one stylish hall. There will not be its equal in the country when they are finished with it.
There will be five or six rooms in it as well as a dance hall. I believe that the same structure cost a right penny. They are saying that Marcus has oceans of money. He has a gang of men working non stop for him on that hall – since last November.”

  “Little the old buck thought,” Una said, “ that it was for a hall for the young people of Gleann Ceo that he was saving some of his money.”

  “Ah, don’t be one bit afraid that Marcus won’t get his own out of the same hall, and more besides, “ the old woman said. “Wait until the dances start. I bet it won’t be long until he is taking in his cut, mark my words.”

  “I don’t think that Marcus Mac Alastair is building that hall so that he will make money from it,” Feargal said. “The man has loads of money. And anyway I don’t think that he has any interest in money.”

  “You are right, Feargal,” Triona said. “They are saying that it is to make money that he is building the hall; but I know for certain that is not true.”

  “Maise Triona, sister, since you know so much about Marcus and his affairs, “ Una said, “tell us more, love.”

  But this talk only made Triona laugh. You couldn’t but laugh at the things Una says at times.

  “Here Peadar,” Feargal said. “Out we go again in the name of God. We will be able to make another ridge at least.”

  “Maise can’t you make that ridge some other time,” the old woman said. “You would be foolish to be killing yourselves.”

  “Out you go,” Feargal said.

  AFTER THE WEDDING

  Conor Mor was standing at his own door and he was looking at the thick fog that was settling like a quiet lake between the two sides of the Gleann. It was a good morning in the month of July and the summer sun was rising, from behind Sliabh an Iarann. The rest of the family were up and they were sitting around the fire, all but Una. She was making tea and her eyes were closing, for the want of sleep. They were still dressed in their Sunday clothes, and some of them were taking off their shoes when they should have been putting them on, because they were only walking in from the greatest celebration that the people of Gleann Ceo had ever seen; and that was Triona and Marcus’s wedding the previous day. Let us listen to Conor Mor and his family talking about it before they fell asleep:

  “They won’t stop talking about last night for ten years,” Conor Mor said.

  “There is no one in the Gleann who wasn’t there,” the old woman said, “except the one who could not come.”

  “We are a long time trying to get possession of our holdings,” the old man said, “but by God we have them in the end. Our land is free from rent forever. They have been making a lot of noise asking for Home Rule; but what Home Rule, could be better than this? The writings that he gave to every tenant last night; is legal confirmation that we own our land for ever, and that no one can ever take it from us.”

  “Wasn’t it really nice of him to keep it secret until he had all the tenants gathered at the wedding?” Una said.

  “And it wasn’t enough for him to give the people possession of their land, ”Feargal said, “he gave possession of the mine to the miners too.”

  “What is this Co-operative that he talked about?” the old woman asked.

  ”It is like this,” Feargal said, “from now on the mine belongs to all the miners jointly. Marcus will do the management, the treasurer and the engineering; but instead of putting the profits down in his own pocket, he will divide it among the miners according to the time that they have worked. He owns the mine for one year now; and that was our share of the profits for the year that he divided on the miners there last night. All of the miners will be involved in this Co-operative; Gleann Ceo Miners Co-operative. Marcus himself will be a paid employee the same as the rest of the members.”

  “Devil the likes of it was ever here before,” the old woman said.

  “If you read a report about something like this from the papers,” Conor Mor said, “you would have difficulty believing it. And then he plans to start up a big shop, and when he has it established he is going to give it to the people of the Gleann.”

  “Is he going to divide the profits from it on the customers according to the money they spend shopping in it?” Una asked.

  “That is as I understood what he said, at any rate,” Peadar said. “Gleann Ceo Co-operative Shop will be established – as he said himself – every customer will be a member of the co-operative, and they will get their share of the profits every Christmas.” “A thousand praises to you O God!” the old woman said. “We will all be travelling on wheels yet.”

  “And the hall belongs to the people of Gleann Ceo as well,” Feargal said, “and they own the fine library that is in it. They are going to appoint a committee to run it.”

  “We will have no scarcity of socialising from now on,” Una said. “The hall will be open every night until half past eleven, with big fires, and plenty of lights.”

  “And we have grazing rights on our two mountains from now on,” Feargal said; “and we won’t have to pay a red penny for that right.”

  “It seems that Mac Alastair left a great pile of money behind him,” Peadar said.

  “It seems that he left oceans of it,” the old man said. “Look at the lump that Marcus put into the Bank as a security for the mine. Look at the amount it cost to establish the new shop; and then the new hall, which must have cost a lot. The new house he has built at Dun le Grein that must have cost a good penny too, I would say. And be sure that he had enough left after all that that he won’t see the half of it spent in his day.”

  “Who would ever think that Mac Alastair would produce such a son?” the old woman said.

  “On my soul it is Triona who is lucky.” Peadar said.

  “Maise, my baby” the old woman said, “we will miss her badly. It is a lonesome house without her, the creature.”

  “My seven blessings go with her,” the old man said. “It will be a long month until we see her again.”

  EASTER WEEK

  It was a fine sunny evening in the month of May, and Triona Mac Alastair was sunning herself on the lawn in front of her own house in Dun le Grein. She was trying to do some knitting; but she wasn’t getting much of that done; because she preferred to be gazing away across the Gleann, on this glorious evening. She was thoroughly enjoying the change that had come on the houses and places in the past three years. The house that used to have kale and moss walls then was whitewashed as bright as the snow now. Some houses were taking off the thatch altogether and putting on slates. There were new houses here and there with newly married couples living in them. Swamps were drained, ditches were mended, and paths levelled. Barns and sheds were whitewashed. By all appearances Gleann Ceo was looking prosperous.

  Certainly Triona had every right to be feeling proud and happy. Why wouldn’t she be delighted to see her own people coming up in the world, and why wouldn’t she be proud when it was her own man who had taken them out of their misery. She would never forget the snowy night that her grandfather had to go on his knees before Mac Alastair and Eoin an Droighead. That memory would remain in her mind for as long as she lived. But that passed and this has come. There was nothing on Inis Colman now only an empty lonely ruin, and there was no one going in or out of Eoin an Droighead’s house except the few stragglers who were not yet finished paying their debts to him. When they freed themselves from his clutches there would be no one at all going to him. And when Triona thought about that she felt a little pity for him. She was never afraid that he would be destitute, because she knew only too well that he had his riches made for many years; but she was the kind of a person, who would not wish defeat or suffering even on her worst enemy.

  Old Nabla came down the garden from the back of the house holding a little boy by the hand. Poor Nabla was so stiff that she was not able to keep up with the child who was only about two years. She took him down as far as his mother.

  “On my soul but he gave me a fright, the little rogue, “Nabla said. “I did not know
before God where he went from me. And where did I find him but up at the Dun, God between us and all harm. If I find you at the Dun again I will leave tracks on your buttock with a sally rod! It is better to do that to you, little one, than worse to happen to you, God protect us.”

  Triona laughed at Nabla’s fear that the child would be taken by the fairies.

  “I’m telling you Triona, “ Nabla said, “ that you would not be laughing if you saw what I saw one time in my life. The child went out like that, on a lovely summers day, making fun for himself at an old dun/fort. He came in between then and twilight and he was crying. God protect us, he cried night and day for as long as he lived, and that was not very long. Because, before a week from that day, they were burying his little bones in the ground. It is what he slept out at the dun/ fort, God save us, and he was enchanted, the creature.”

  “We will have to put a halter on you, Marcaisin,” Triona said, “because if what Nabla is saying is true you could be charmed away from us. Go in with Nabla and get the milk for the little lamb. Off you go.”

  Nansai Seimin Ban came down through the flower garden. Nansai was in her early twenties at this time and she was a fine girl.

  “I believe it won’t be long now until Marcus is back. He is a long time out and about.”

  “Oh I don’t know where he went, pet, since it is a lovely day and he has the new motorbike. He is worried about this fight in Dublin. That is not what brought him to Longford of course. It was about coal that he went. But he said that he would not come beck until he heard the whole truth about this racket in the city. He is out of his head listening to the rumours that are going around, and no two of them supporting each other.”

  “There must be something terrible happening when the papers stopped coming, “ Nansai said.

  “Marcus is afraid that some of his friends in Dublin are involved in this fight: some of the Irish, and others whom he knew when he was at University. He said that he was almost positive that Padraig Mac Piarais was up to his two eyes in this work.”